


And Just Like the Change of Seasons, I Know You'll be Back Again

by brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, more tired writing, some fluff for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-04
Updated: 2015-04-04
Packaged: 2018-03-21 06:48:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3682074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly/pseuds/brazenlyunabashedlyshamelessly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>More post 5x12 fluff</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Just Like the Change of Seasons, I Know You'll be Back Again

It was past four in the morning, and Ian couldn’t sleep. Mickey was lying beside him, burrowed under the covers; most of them were bunched over on Mickey’s side. And every now and then, Ian would hear a faint snore coming from him.

Ian smiled over at Mickey in the dark. He knew that his boyfriend would call him an idiot, but sharing a bed was one of Ian’s favourite things about their being back together. He’d sort of taken it for granted before, being able to just reach out to touch Mickey whenever he wanted. Weeks in an empty bed had had Ian aching to have Mickey so close to him again.

The memories making him restless, Ian scooted closer to his boyfriend. The sudden desire to be close—closer—to his boyfriend struck him. It was hard, since Mickey had all but made himself into a human burrito, but Ian managed to reach across to trail his fingers lightly over Mickey’s back.

Shuffling and a sleepy little grunt greeted Ian’s touch. Knowing that he was asking for trouble—because God knew, Mickey was just as likely to blacken his eye as he was to play along—Ian allowed his hand to veer off to Mickey’s ribs, tickling him.

“What the fuck, Ian?” Mickey grumbled in a sleepy voice, the complaint muffled by his pillow.

“Wake up,” Ian whispered, resting his chin on Mickey’s shoulder.

Incoherent muttering this time, with Mickey dragging the blankets over his head in an attempt to ignore him. Mickey smacked at Ian’s hand when his fingers began prodding at Mickey’s side again.

Undeterred, Ian pulled his hands back, only to yank the covers down so he could begin planting light, teasing kisses to the crook of Mickey’s neck; Mickey had always been sensitive there, and Ian could feel the goosebumps springing up under his mouth.

Hearing Mickey heaving an exasperated sigh, Ian blinked rapidly when the bedside lamp was suddenly switched on. Once his eyes had adjusted to the light, Ian found himself staring at his disgruntled boyfriend.

His hair was sticking up in places, pillow creases on the right side of his face, and he was glaring blearily at Ian.

“There better be a good fuckin’ reason you’re wakin’ me up right now,” Mickey said in a sleep-roughened voice.  

Ian’s lips twitched at Mickey’s attempt at sounding like a hard ass, even while half asleep. Acting on impulse, he pressed a kiss to that scowling mouth. He felt Mickey start a little at the contact, before he relaxed into it.

He wanted to prolong the kiss, but the positioning was awkward. Pulling away, and smirking at Mickey’s little sound of protest, Ian began wrestling Mickey onto his back. Then, before Mickey could complain, or try to shove him off, Ian had settled on top of him, holding Mickey’s arms above his head.

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey huffed, sounding a little more awake now. “We really gotta do this at four in the fuckin’ mornin’?”

“Why not? I missed you.”

The expression on Mickey’s face could only be described as baffled.

“Gallagher, I’m right here.”

“I know,” Ian said, suddenly feeling sheepish. “It’s just... I dunno, I just wanted to touch you.”

He could tell that Mickey still didn’t understand what was going on inside his head, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he relaxed against Ian’s hold, settling himself more comfortably on the bed, and spreading his legs so Ian could fit more easily between them.

“Okay,” he said, shrugging as best he could with Ian still holding onto his wrists.

Pausing, Ian didn’t know what to do now that he had Mickey’s surrender. He’d thought he was going to have to work harder for it.

“You gonna let me take it slow?” he asked. Ian watched Mickey’s expression carefully; he knew how Mickey felt about him ‘dawdling’.

“If that’s what you wanna do,” Mickey replied. “And just so you know, you’re gonna have to do all the heavy liftin’ this time.

“That’s different from normal, how?” Ian teased.

Mickey pulled a face at him, which made Ian grin. Slowly releasing the hold he had on Mickey, Ian scooted down in the bed a little. He braced himself on his elbows as he looked down on his boyfriend.

Pale skin with the lightest dusting of freckles; Ian remembered how intrigued he’d been by the tiny dots. They weren’t like Ian’s, all out and obvious. These you had to be really close to see, and Ian couldn’t help but duck down to trace them with his tongue. Mickey shivered as Ian blew gently across his damp skin.

Moving down Mickey’s chest, Ian paused to nip lightly at his nipples. Mickey made a little sound of pleasure so Ian did it again; he could feel Mickey hardening against him, rocking his hips against Ian’s.

“You know,” Ian said, affecting a huge, fake yawn, “maybe it is too early for this.”

“Stop now, Gallagher, an’ I’ll kick your ass,” Mickey warned.

He grinned against Mickey’s skin before continuing his downward trail. Goosebumps erupted as Ian took his time. Light kisses along Mickey’s ribs, gently nibbling at his hipbone, fingers brushing along his inner thighs.

Mickey was squirming by now as Ian pointedly ignored his erection. Tempted to take Mickey into his mouth, Ian hurriedly came up onto his knees.

“Roll over,” he instructed.

“Aw, c’mon, man,” Mickey complained.

“Do it now, Mick.”

More grumbling as Mickey reluctantly moved onto his stomach. But when he made to get up onto all fours, obviously assuming that Ian was about to fuck him, Ian put a hand on the small of his back.

“Stay like this.”

Throwing Ian a dirty look over his shoulder, Mickey complied.

Ian’s smug smirk faded away as his gaze travelled down the pale skin of Mickey’s back. It was weird, but Ian had a deep love for this part of Mickey’s body. Aside from Mickey’s ass—which he fucking loved—it was the scars that entranced him.

While he hated that Mickey had ever been hurt enough to scar in the first place, Ian was pretty sure he knew the story behind every one of them. And that blew his mind. He remembered lying in bed with Mickey night after night, both of them feeling warm and safe, and trailing his fingers over the marks on Mickey’s skin. In the beginning, after he and Mickey had first started up, Ian had dared to ask what had happened. It’d been about the three inch wide scar just under Mickey’s shoulder blade; Mickey’s response had been to tell Ian to mind his own business.

But as the years passed, and the trust between them grew, Mickey had started opening up. He told Ian about the scars that had come from him being an idiot with his brothers, wracked his brain to remember the stories that accompanied some of the others. Mickey had even told him about some of the marks Terry had left on him.

That thought, remembering how Terry had hurt Mickey, froze Ian in place. All traces of arousal faded, and all Ian could do was stare at the man beneath him.

He’d hurt Mickey, too.

“Yo, Gallagher, any time now.” Mickey’s teasing voice broke into his thoughts. When Ian didn’t respond, Mickey once again looked over his shoulder at him. Ian had no idea what Mickey saw in his expression, but suddenly all evidence of laughter faded from the other man’s voice as he asked, “Hey, you okay?”

Quickly sitting up, Mickey reached out to tug Ian down so that they were at eye level. Ian couldn’t look at him.

“What’s goin’ on?” Mickey asked in concern.

“It’s nothing,” he muttered, trying to shrug it off.

“Don’t try an’ bullshit me,” Mickey told him sternly. “We talked about this. Even if you think I don’t wanna hear it, you gotta talk to me.”

Ian took a deep breath.

“I was looking at your scars, and—” he hesitated, unsure what to say.

“They turned you off?” Mickey asked, sounding self-conscious.

“What? No,” Ian said immediately. “I was just thinking about all the people that hurt you. How I hurt you.”

There was a brief pause before Mickey sighed.

“That’s really... That’s...” Another sigh before Mickey blurted out, “That’s fuckin’ stupid.”

Ian’s head snapped up at the words; he felt the sharp bite of hurt at Mickey’s attitude. Here he was, apologising for being an asshole, and Mickey was calling him stupid?

“Yeah, you bailin’ hurt, I’ll give you that,” Mickey told him. “But you... Jesus, Ian, I didn’t know I could be happy before you came along. Like, I figured my life was gonna be hidin’ from Terry, and bein’ in an’ outta jail.” Here he hesitated, struggling for the words. “An’ I hurt you, too. Not like I’m keepin’ score, but I fucked up plenty. You always came back.”

They were quiet for a few minutes, and Ian tried to absorb what Mickey had said. He started as he felt Mickey reach out to cup his face.

“I love you. I want you with me. The rest is just... It doesn’t matter, okay?”

The swell of emotion blocked Ian’s throat; he settled for nodding mutely.

“Now, are we gonna talk ‘bout our feelin’s some more, or you mind lettin’ me get some sleep?” Mickey asked, his gentle tone at odds with the gruff words.

“Yeah, asshole. Sleep as much as you want.”

“Good, now get over here,” he said before turning off the lamp.

Pulling Ian down with him, Mickey settled onto the bed. He scooted backwards before reaching for Ian’s arm to wrap it around him. Then, after shifting around to make himself comfortable, Mickey murmured into the darkness.

“Night, Gallagher.”

 


End file.
